Thirteen years ago today was the last time we spoke, the last time I heard your voice. You were in Hialeah, I was in Atlanta. We discussed plans about seeing each other during Christmas. Little did I know that this would be the last time that we would speak. I would have loved to have used a different picture but this is all I have left of you. This picture and precious memories.
During our time together, we had our disagreements - brothers always do. But you were much more than a brother. You were 15 years my senior. More of a father to me than a brother. You took me places with you and entertained me. You shared your life and knowledge with me. You gave me a great appreciation of reading, you taught me how to play chess, how to fish and when no one else could understand my problems, you were always there to lend an ear, to give suggestions.
I remember the summer I spent with you in Arkansas. Both of us so far away from home. Playing chess, reading my first Sherlock Holmes story - "A Study in Scarlet" - which you bought for me, getting up early and fishing at the lake (I cast your prized rod and reel into the lake and you dove in and got it), making instant pizza, eatin' raisins and baptizing me into Christ. Precious memories, how they linger.
You would be proud of your children. They are great, intelligent kids, they miss you deeply. You also have a wonderful granddaughter that was born the year after you died. You would love her. Intelligent, beautiful girl with your brown eyes.
I am sorry that we didn't have more time together. I miss you brother. How you ever flood my soul.